


Some Nights I Call it a Draw

by Jadesymb



Series: Glyphs on the skin, Connections in the heart [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Established Relationship, Implied Past Underage, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Pack Feels, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesymb/pseuds/Jadesymb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack is established, and things are going well.  Except today a body is found, the victim of an “animal attack,” which turns out to be supernatural in origin, because this is Stiles’ life now.  Now if only the pack can take care of the latest threat quietly, without anyone getting hurt, and preferably before the Sheriff finds out about Stiles and Derek’s relationship.  (Like things ever work out the way Stiles plans)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [ArcticMel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticMel/pseuds/ArcticMel) for being an amazing editor!

Floating toward consciousness, a faint medical smell hinted to Stiles where he must be.  Machines beeped irritably, the uncomfortable gown itched, and something was embedded in the back of his hand. He was used to waking up in strange places with new, half-healed injuries.  (He wasn’t sure what it said about his life that that was normal.)  What he wasn’t used to was waking up in the hospital.  It had been over a year since he needed one.  Things must have gone pretty far south for him to still be there.  He could feel the drugs clearing his system, knew that he was using a bit of his spark and pulling a little on pack magic to make it happen.  There was a hand on his shoulder, feeding him energy, helping to fight off pain, the attempt was clumsy, not focused, which meant it wasn’t Derek.  He reached deep into his well of magic, one big push and he’d be awake and feeling good, but found himself depleted, achingly empty.  Stiles cast his mind about and the memories of the day flooded back to him in a rush.

  
  
****

  
This morning, Stiles had blinked awake, momentarily confused, because he was in his own bedroom.  That probably shouldn’t be weird, except he had spent the last two weeks sleeping at the pack house.  Once Stiles remembered that he was there because his dad was on day shift for the next two weeks, his next realization was that he had gone to bed alone.  Of course, finding his mate curled up in bed with him was more an unexpected pleasure than a disorienting surprise.  
  
“What time did you come in?”  Stiles mumbled as Derek pulled him in closer, nuzzling at his neck.  
  
“Two.  Tired.  Go back to sleep.”  Derek’s nuzzling turned into a soft nip.  
  
“I gotta get up, make Dad breakfast, and go into work.  And you should get out of here before Dad finds us.”  Stiles made no move to leave the warmth of his mate’s embrace.  
  
“You should tell your dad about us and then move in with me.  The den is safer.  The bed is bigger.  I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to sneak out.”  Derek emphasized his last word with blunt human teeth biting down on Stiles neck.  Stiles let out a small groan and wiggled his backside into Derek’s hard length in retribution.  
  
“I know.  I will.  Soon.  I just don’t want to freak him out and I feel guilty about leaving him alone.  I feel like I’m all he’s got.  He’s going to freak out over you, especially if he figures out how long we’ve been together, not to mention that moving out might break his heart.  And I’m getting up now so we don’t end up making enough noise to bring my dad up here to check on me.”  Stiles started to pull away, but Derek just pulled him back, shifting his mouth up next to Stiles’ ear.  
  
“He just got into the shower.  I can be quiet if you can.”  And with that, Derek rolled on top of Stiles, one hand working Stiles’ long sleeved sleep shirt up over his abdomen.  “I hate the fact that you wear all these clothes to bed when you’re here,” Derek added as he bent to lick Stiles’ newly exposed skin, nipping at a scar that ran across the top of Stiles’ hip bone.  Stiles arched into Derek, letting the sensations carry him away.    
  
Which is why he only got to take a two minute shower and why his Dad ended up shoving breakfast at him, instead of the other way around.    
  
They carpooled down to the station, after Stiles assured his dad that he’d get a friend to pick him up after work.    
  
Stiles’ morning mostly consisted of him dancing around the file room and working at his computer.  He was thrilled his father was able to use a little bit of nepotism to get him the office slave job at the station.  Stiles’ major project was getting all the old files into the computer system, which was mind numbingly dull.  He was trying to keep an eye out for the supernatural in the old case files, but he was more focused on music than work.    
  
He’d been alone all morning, so his senses flared, muscles tensed as soon as someone crossed the threshold into the room.  Stiles relaxed almost instantly, knowing by instinct that it was his father approaching him from behind.  He prefered to keep his status quo, so Stiles glanced at the file in his hand; nothing important, not a lot of papers in the folder.  He waited until he felt his Dad’s hand on his shoulder before spinning wildly, dropping the file and letting out what hopefully sounded like a surprised yelp.  
  
“Dad!” Stiles yanked his headphones off, “Warn a guy!”    
  
“You really need to pay more attention.  I called your name.”  His father rubbed a hand over his face, and Stiles felt his heart sink.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Stiles questioned.  
  
“We had someone go missing last night, body found this morning.  She was young, around your age, the body is a wreck, looks like animals got to it or something.”  His father shook his head sadly. Stiles went on alert instantly, because half eaten people always meant trouble in his world.  He took a deep breath, and moved forward to give his dad a quick hug.  
  
“Hey, you need a break,” Stiles said as he stepped back.  “Let’s have lunch, we can talk about it.  I brought some of those turkey wrap sandwiches from home for us.  I’ll get them and you and I can chill for 20 minutes down here.  Sit, I’ll be right back.”  Stiles waited till his father nodded and sunk into a chair before heading up to the break room.  As he wrapped his fingers around his phone to pull it out and text Derek, his phone buzzed.  Texting and walking was something Stiles could do now, so he entered into a brief conversation.  
  
Derek:  What’s wrong?  
Stiles:  Dad said body found. Animal attack.  
Derek:  Where?  
Stiles:  Don’t know yet.  I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.  Also, check the news.  They may have already leaked something.  
  
Stiles slid the phone back in his pocket and pulled his lunch bag from the break room.  He  grabbed drinks and headed back down to find out what he could.  
  
His dad had carefully stacked the files on the worktable to the side, giving them plenty of room to eat.  Stiles plopped down in the chair next to his father and banged his shoulder gentle into him.  
“Here you go!  All nice and heart friendly.”  Stiles smiled as he emptied the lunch bag and split it between them.    
  
“Stiles.  I’ve been wanting to talk to you.  I know you’re all set for the community college, but I really think you should be going to a major university.  You don’t have to stay in Beacon Hills for me.  I’m proud of how hard you worked, of your grades, of how smart you are, and I want you to follow your dreams.  I figured you be moving out at this point.  We can swing the money or do student loans.  This is not some pipe dream.”  His dad took a big bite of his sandwich, eyes on his food.    
  
“Dad, not this again.  I told you, with my AP credits and stuff, I only need a few more lower division classes.  I’ll take them at our local community college, using the scholarship I got and just live here.  No worries about costs.  I can keep this amazing part time gig, so, income to feed my jeep.  Once I’ve got that done, I’ll transfer down to the University of California, Davis.  It’s only about a two hour commute and I should be able to arrange classes so I only have to drive down twice a week, finish up my degree that way.  It’s a great plan.”    
  
Stiles found himself torn, he needed to get the details about the body, but this was the perfect opportunity to bring up moving out.  After a seconds hesitation, he went for it.  “Although, now that you mention it, I have been sorta thinking about moving in with some friends.”  
  
“Moving into wherever it is you’ve been sleeping for the last two weeks?”  His dad glanced slyly over at him.  Stiles was momentarily flabbergasted, but his dad just shrugged.  “What?  I’m a cop.  I know last night was the first time you’d been in the house in at least two weeks.  You’re an adult, now.  While I appreciate you telling me where you are, you don’t have to.  And you don’t have to lie and tell me you are at Scott’s all the time.  Mrs. McCall may like you, but whenever you stay more than four days she always kicks you out and sends you home. You know you can tell me things, right?  I’m here for you.  I love you, and I’m okay with you and the whole ‘bisexual might be bringing home a boy’, so if you’re hiding someone because of their gender, you should stop.”    
  
Stiles mouth worked for a second, and he was sure he looked like a fish. He was finally able to spit out, “Yeah Dad.  I uh, know.”  The problem was that Derek was in no way a boy, and he’d really rather not give his father a heart attack.    
  
The two of them ate in silence for a few minutes before Stiles decided to change the subject.  “So, I’m going to hear all the gossip as soon as I crawl out of my cave down here, you want to tell me what’s going on with the latest hot case?  Where was she found?  Do we know who she is?”    
  
His dad rolled his eyes at him before stating, “Stiles.  Leave it alone.”  Stiles glared at his father until his father sighed and continued.  “She was out jogging yesterday evening.  Another jogger found her up at the north end of the public park this morning.  He noticed her pink shirt back away from the path and went to check it out.  Messy; reminds me of those mountain lion attacks from a few years back.  And that’s all I’m willing to tell you.  Are you planning to be home tonight?”  
  
“Um, if you are okay with it, I think I’ll hang out with my friends tonight, since I only work three days this week, and I’ve only got a few more weeks till College starts.”  Stiles had planned to be home tonight, but a body in the woods usually meant he’d be up half the night either out in the forest or researching.  His dad only nodded and grabbed a napkin to wipe his face and hands.  
  
“Thanks for lunch, son,” Dad said as he stood.  Stiles stood up too, and wrapped an arm around his dad.  
  
“Thanks for eating with me.  I’ll be home for dinner with you tomorrow, okay?”    
  
“Sure.  Be safe out there, stay out of the woods.”  His dad smiled at him as he left the room.  Stiles instantly reached for his phone and texted Derek the relevant information.  Derek responded that he was on his way to check it out and for Stiles to be on alert.  Stiles sighed, slipped his headphones on, and got back to work.    
  
It was about two hours later when he felt Derek tug on the magic between them.  It was a gentle tug, and before he had a chance to react, his cell phone chimed.    
  
Derek:  Have the scent.  Safe to share?  
  
Stiles didn’t bother to text back, just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the connection between himself and his mate all the way.  He was flooded with Derek, could feel what his mate felt, and he knew Derek could feel him too.  Stiles reveled in the closeness he felt, the warmth and the joy that flowed between them.  Derek focused on the scent, something that Stiles would have not been able to smell even if he’d been standing in the park to next to Derek, but through Derek, the scents were strong, made sense.  One scent stood out. It smelled of rust and must and something sharp, dank and dangerous.  He could tell that Derek didn’t know the scent, and Stiles certainly didn’t, but any data that could help was good right now.  Stiles projected his happiness at their bond back into Derek, felt the bond flare and strengthen for a moment.  Then Stiles sighed and began the work of untangling the their bond. He felt the connection shrink, until his awareness of his mate was back to a familiar corner of his mind, instead of infusing his entire being. The whole process took a few minutes, and left him feeling slightly bereft of Derek’s presence.  Stiles could cut the bond quickly when needed, but it tended to be slightly traumatic.  His phone buzzed again.  
  
Derek:  meet you at 3 at the usual spot?  
Stiles:  Yes, already told Dad I wouldn’t be home tonight.  I think he knows I’ve got a secret boyfriend.  
Derek:  You could just tell him.  
  
Derek had been getting pushier about Stiles telling his father.  He knew it weighed heavily on Stiles to keep lying to his dad. Stiles put his phone away and slithered to his feet.  He slid a hand under his shirt collar, gentle rubbing at one of glyphs Derek had tattooed on his skin.  He tugged on his magic, shaped it to his will, pushed his unwavering faith that the magic would work, would hold, and channeled it through the tattoo.   _They will not see me.  They will not hear me.  I will pass unnoticed.  No camera will capture my image_.  Then he tried to be stealthy as he went up the stairs into the main office. He slipped past his father’s desk, heading over to the table in the office where they worked on the current files.  No one was nearby, which made it easier to stay unseen.  Stiles found the file they’d started today, hard copies of pictures of the body, all the information they’d collected so far.  Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket, made sure that it was set to complete silence, and quickly took pictures of anything relevant.  As soon as he was back in his office, he released the spell, and sent the information on to Derek.  
  
The last hour of his shift passed in a creeping, dull, blur.  He was interrupted just once, when his dad stopped by to let Stiles know he might not be home tonight himself, because he was going over to another county to help out on case, and not to worry.  Just before three, Stiles felt his mate approaching.  He dutifully closed up his office space, and headed out into the sunlight.


	2. Chapter 2

Apparently, you can take the creepiness out of the creeper, but once a creeper, always a creeper. Stiles caught sight of Derek hanging out in an alley down the block. Stiles ignored him, walked right past him, and headed a few blocks down to a coffee shop frequented more by high schoolers than by cops. He ordered a caramel macchiato and a black coffee, and fiddled with sugar packets until they were ready. He took the drinks around the corner, to a spot not visible from the street, and sank into his usual comfy chair. He placed the macchiato on the table and took a sip of his too-hot, perfectly-bitter coffee. A few minutes later, Derek slid into the chair next to him and picked up the second drink.

“Hey. Saw you creeping. You know, you could come here and order drinks and wait for me instead of creeping down the street after me.” Stiles smiled. He really wanted to pull his mate in for a hug, or even better, a dirty, open-mouthed, up-against-the-wall kiss. He restrained himself, because they had been keeping this relationship a secret now for just over a year, and he knew better. Their spot at the coffee shop was secluded, but not private. 

“Or you could tell your dad and I could actually walk into the station and meet you,” Derek replied smugly. 

“Fine. Sunday.” Relief surprised Stiles as it rushed into him, catching him off guard. He hadn’t really planned this out, but as the words left his mouth, he was certain, this was what he wanted. “Come to brunch on Sunday. I’ll tell him that my boyfriend is coming over, and we’ll see how well it goes over. It’s not like he has bullets that can actually kill you.”

“What?” Derek’s head came up, his mouth opened a little bit in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled at him. “He suspects I’ve got a secret significant other, and I think it’s better if I tell him than if he decides to snoop. I mean, I can’t tell him about the whole werewolf secret life I’ve been living, but I can tell him about the best part of that life, which is you, dumbass, before you ask. I don’t have to tell him about the other stuff to share you with him. I’ve been 18 for a few months now, there isn’t a reason to wait any longer.”

“You mean it? This weekend?” Derek looked like he was vacillating between joy and panic.

“Yes. It’ll be nice to include you in family brunch every Sunday. And I won’t have to worry when Dad shows up at our pack house about having my own bedroom,” Stiles said fondly, and then he reached out and took Derek’s hand; observers be damned. “Now, tell me what you found out, so we can decide if we need to get involved or not.”

Derek’s information was limited, but he’d brought Stiles’ laptop. They hunkered down for an hour in the coffee shop and examined the information at hand, bumping it against their own bestiary. Stiles got it limited down to three different strong possibilities before the pack meeting. He called Deaton, who agreed to show up at the pack house along with everyone else, and then sent Deaton all the information and research they had done. Stiles placed one more phone call while Derek tossed their drinks, and they head out.

They pulled into the driveway of the newly purchased pack house and Stiles tumbled out of the camaro, grabbing the bags of chinese take out they’d brought home to feed the pack. Stiles dropped the food in the kitchen and stepped back; werewolf noses would sort the food out much faster than Stiles attempting to read the handwritten notes on the boxes. Derek stepped up behind Stiles and pulled him into the embrace they’d both been craving since the coffee shop. Pleasure uncurled inside Stiles as he slipped his hands inside Derek’s jacket, moving under Derek’s shirt to feel the hard planes of his body, the heat of his skin. Derek’s mouth was warm against his own, welcoming Stiles’ kiss. They ignored the rest of the pack, until Scott finally poked at Stiles. 

“Dude. Here’s yours. Come on, pack meeting now, make outs later.” Scott poked again as he held out Stiles’ normal order. Stiles sighed as he pulled back from Derek.

“Fine. We’re coming.” Stiles grabbed his food container. Eyes still on Derek, they followed the rest of the pack into the main room. 

Derek claimed an over-sized chair toward the front of the room, grabbed Stiles by the waist, and pulled him unceremoniously into his lap. Stiles laughed and managed to not spill his food everywhere before leaning up to place a kiss on Derek’s cheek. Stiles slipped down so he was half on his mate, half on the chair, and they rearranged themselves to be able to eat and talk. He relaxed against Derek, enjoyed the warmth of him, the slight buzz of magic flowing naturally between them, and dug into his meal. 

Minutes passed in typical werewolf mealtime chaos, when suddenly Derek’s head snapped up and tipped to one side in a familiar way. No tension flared through their bond, so Stiles kept eating. Derek eventually untangled himself from his mate and went to the front door, opening it just as Deaton had raised his hand to knock. 

“Thank you for coming. There is food in the kitchen, if you’d like.” Derek gestured him inside. 

“Thank you, I've eaten. I’d like to wrap this up quickly, if possible. I've put some protections in place, given the current threat.” Deaton was friendly, if harried. 

“Have a seat then, tell us what you've found.” Derek gestured to an empty chair, before returning to Stiles. Stiles returned the favor from earlier, pulling Derek down on top of him, then re-arranging themselves into a more comfortable position. 

“Your earlier research and the blood toxin screens from the police department helped me identify the threat. I’m fairly certain we are dealing with a family of Trow,” Deaton stated as he sat down.

“Trow? The fairy eaters?” Stiles asked.

“Yes. Technically, Trow like to eat anything supernatural. They feed on the energy. Reports show that a family of Trow can and will take down a lone wolf if given the chance. The pack is at risk. I’ve sent a message to the local coven as well. I assume Stiles might look tasty to them, with all the pack magic he has access to, but without the claws and teeth,” Deaton supplied. Stiles felt, more than heard, the growl that rumbled in his mate. “Small groups of four to six of them will look for a cave system or other place near water and a food source to set up shop. Once established, they breed like rabbits, eat everything they can, and generally wreak havoc.”

“Anything special we need to know to fight them?” Stiles asked as he put a reassuring hand on Derek. 

“They have a venom in their saliva. In humans, it tends to result in illness, even death, depending on the exposure levels. In werewolves, the effect is reported to make the bite of a Trow extremely, sometimes incapacitatingly, painful. The bite might also heal a bit slower than average, but not significantly slower. Once healed, there are no other effects in werewolves. They will kill and eat humans, often finding ones with just a little untapped magic, but that’s not usually their main prey. As far as killing them, best bet is beheading. Fire may work also, but I would behead the body after, just to be sure. They are not particularly smart creatures, more around chimp level than human. That said, they are attracted to magic, there are rumors that they can interfere with it or are immune to it. It might be smarter to not rely on it as much for this fight.” 

“So, bad guys, threat to the pack, kills humans. Behead them, don’t get bit, avoid magic, look for their home up by the water where the trail went cold,” Erica summarized, then looked to her alpha. “We going hunting tonight?” 

Stiles looked at Danny. Danny shrugged and said, “I've got the old radios, we can break those out rather than use your magic to stay in touch.” 

“Good. In that case, anyone have any reason to delay?” Stiles asked, looking around the room. No one raised any objections.

“Yes. Tonight.” Derek agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

After much additional planning, the pack rolled out at about 10pm to hunt down the Trow.  
  
The radio in his ear was mildly uncomfortable and, even though he knew using magic was a bad idea, Stiles really wished he’d been able to talk Derek around to letting him use the communication spell.  Derek had also wanted Stiles to sit out this battle, but there had been no way that was going to happen.  Stiles was trained and could fight hand to hand with the rest of them; he was dangerous without relying on his magic. Still, Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek had given in because he agreed with Stiles’ logic, or because he knew Stiles would be involved no matter what Derek said.   
  
“We’re in position.  Allison and Danny?”  Derek’s voice was a whisper in the radio.    
  
“We’re good, about half a mile due east of you.”  Allison’s voice was louder, slightly staticity.    
  
“Scott and I are a half mile west.  As long as the Trow don’t go deeper into the hills, we’ll get all of them tonight,” Stiles said as he held down the button on the radio in his ear.   He’d tightened down all the magic in the pack, wrapping it up and smothering it.  He hadn’t told Derek, but it sort of hurt, felt like he was fighting himself, holding everything in.  He had a headache buzzing in the place where he normally kept Derek’s comforting presence.  When he’d closed down that bond, he’d heard Derek whimper, so he knew that Derek found the absence uncomfortable.   Despite all his effort, he could still feel the general locations of his packmates, could point unerringly toward their spot in the woods, even blindfolded and deaf.  
  
“Alright then.  Stiles?  Light me up.”  Derek’s voice was even.  Stiles let out a sigh of relief, and he reopened the bond between himself and his mate.  Power flowed between them and he fed Derek more, trying to make him the most tasty bait they could manage.  “That got their attention.  They’re coming my way.  Ten more seconds, then shut it back down.”  
  
Stiles counted down in his head, but when he got to three, Derek shouted, “Fuck!  One veered off, it’s heading straight for Stiles.  Shut it down now.  Scott, stay with Stiles.  We’ve got the four here.  Allison, Danny, join us.”  
  
Stiles forced all of the energy into the little box inside himself, smothering it again.  The headache returned, worse than before.  Stiles pulled out his gun with his right hand and tightened his grip on the machete in his off hand.  He knew that the gun should slow the Trow down, and that taking off its head with his machete was unlikely.  Scott wolfed out, moved forward, and together they listened.    
  
Stiles fought his instinct to use his ability to listen, relying on Scott’s reactions to tell him where the Trow was approaching from.  It was eerily silent as the beast peaked out from the forest, yellow eyes against skin so dark that Stiles human vision only picked up the outline of it from the movement.  As soon as he spotted it, he felt it.  The thing was pulling at his magic, literally sucking energy away from Stiles even though it was still thirty feet away.  The feeling of magic being pulled from him against his will made his stomach churn, left Stiles unsteady on his feet.  He tried to concentrate, focus on the Trow.  It was bigger than he’d expected, and faster.  It barreled towards Stiles, moonlight reflecting on its teeth and large claws.  It had arms too long for its body, giving it impressive reach.  Stiles pulled the gun up, fired three shots into the Trow’s head before it was too close, and Scott leapt, but the Trow ducked under his leap, lunging towards Stiles.   
  
The gun fired loudly as one last shot caught the Trow in the face at close range.  The bullet seemed to disappear into the creature, and the Trow didn’t even flinch.  Stiles instinctively pulled on his magic for a burst of speed, but the Trow’s energy suck took it from him before he could use it.  Stiles stumbled, and the thing managed to grab the arm with the gun.  Stiles pulled and rolled, an escape trick that would have worked on the werewolves he trained with regularly, but the Trow went with him, and somehow they ended up on the ground.  It grinned wickedly at Stiles, lunging  for him.  Stiles got his right arm up between them and the thing grabbed it.  Where the Trow’s skin met Stiles, cold seeped in, almost burning in its intensity.  Stiles stilled under its grasp, unable to move.  It wasn’t the same type of paralysis that he’d felt when the Kanima had attacked, years ago, but it was close.   
  
The Trow’s grin got even wider, and it took both hands and snapped Stiles’ right arm, like a twig.  The pain had him screaming, consuming his ability to reason, pulling on his magic, sending an unconscious request for help and strength down the bond to his mate.  None of it helped.  The Trow pulled the energy, leaning over his twisted arm like it was enjoying the scent of magic and pain and blood.  Then the Trow was suddenly flying backwards, off of Stiles. Scott was on the attack again.  
  
“Stiles, it wants you.  RUN!” Scott snarled as the werewolf and the Trow tangled together, their bodies impacting the ground with a smack that sounded louder than the earlier gunshots.  Stiles knew in his bones that what Scott had said was true, and he turned, grabbed his blade, and headed back towards his jeep and the highway.  Derek had been right, Stiles should have sat this one out, which was not something Stiles was ever going to admit out loud.  He managed to grab hold of his magic and use it to stop the pain emanating from his badly broken arm, but he didn’t have enough time or power to heal it.  
  
He was almost to the jeep when he felt his energy being tugged from him again.  The Trow was on his heels.  No time to stop and get in the jeep, Stiles kept a firm grip on his bladed weapon and headed to the highway.  He pulled back on his energy, trying to wrestle it from the drain of the Trow, but it had no effect.  He was panting, aching, running full out when he found the highway.  Stiles glanced both directions, took a breath, and dived across, despite the cars zooming by.  He was able to pull on his magic enough to get the boost he needed, and made it to the other side of the four lane road without damage.  The Trow followed, but was not as good at Frogger as Stiles.  The impact of a vehicle into the Trow, the sound of brakes, crunching glass and twisting metal, brought Stiles’ gaze around to the highway.  The Trow was getting up, shaking off whichever of the cars had hit it.  There were at least four cars tangled together in a nasty accident.  Stiles hoped all passengers were okay.    
  
The Trow skittered forward towards Stiles and then paused, whipping its head back.  Stiles was about to turn and run, when he realized that the Trow had picked a new victim.  It lurched towards one of the crumpled cars, and tore the back door off one, reaching its hand in towards a car seat.  Stiles didn’t even take the time to think, just tugged hard on his magic, let it flow through him.  
  
“Hey!  Asshole!  I’m tastier.  Get over here!” Stiles challenged, energy flowing through him.  The Trow froze, its head slowly turned toward towards Stiles, eyes glowing yellow in the night.  It hissed, teeth bared, and then darted to Stiles.  Stiles braced himself, raised the machete he’d managed to hang onto in his off hand.  He could fight, as long as he could block the pain of his broken arm, but he was not as good with his left hand.  He sent a pulse to locate Scott, and felt relief at the knowledge that Scott was on his way. Stiles held his ground.    
  
The Trow bolted toward Stiles, faster than human eyes could track.  Instinctively, Stiles jumped back from claws aimed at his gut, but not swiftly enough.  Agony flared where claws bit into his leg. His panic peaked irrationally when he realized just how close the claws were to his groin.  Flying backward, Stiles twisted, reflexively trying to shield himself from the impact.  Stiles ended up half on his side; his broken arm screamed in pain, bones crunching and grinding as it smacked uselessly into the dirt.  His left hand scrabbled to keep hold of his only weapon.    
  
The Trow followed him down, landing roughly on top of Stiles.  It leaned down, its teeth in Stiles’ face, its forehead touched his.  And then it sucked in a breath, and with it, Stiles felt energy rush out of him, felt his pack bonds snap where his magic held them together.  The Trow sucked again, and Stiles felt heartbreakingly empty and disconnected, alone for the first time in years.  It raised its arm back to strike, but a howl from somewhere behind them caused the Trow to glance away from Stiles.  Stiles struck, no hesitation, his mind whispering _I will bend like a reed in the wind_.  He brought the weapon up, blade glinting in the moonlight as it impacted the side of the Trow’s neck.  The machete went through so much easier than Stiles would have thought possible, as if the Trow had no bones for the weapon to catch on.  The Trow’s head thumped onto the dirt. Its body tipped forward, pinning Stiles to the ground, black fluid frothing onto him from the severed neck.   
  
Stiles got a good look at his mangled right arm as he pushed ineffectually at the body of the Trow.  There was blood pooling out of it at an alarming rate, and Stiles knew he was in trouble.  He pulled on his magic, knowing that he needed to stop the bleeding fast, that he’d already lost too much blood tonight.  He couldn’t find any energy left in him.  The effect of the Trow had not vanished with death and he couldn’t get a grip on his energy with the body pressing down on him.  
  
“Scott!  Get this thing off of me NOW!” He cried in terror.  Scott was instantly by his side, yanking the gore away, yellow eyes glinting.  As soon as the weight was off his chest, Stiles was able to pull a trickle energy and shape it to his will.  He was able to slow the bleeding, to start repairing the wounds, but he felt blackness creeping up, overtaking him.  He heard distance sirens, and the blackness won.


	4. Chapter 4

The bed is uncomfortable, and his hand itches from the intrusion in his skin.   
Stiles was honestly not sure if it was a good idea, but he needed to know what had happened to the pack, so he pulled a little bit harder on the magic trickling into him from the hand on his shoulder, and fought to open his eyes. Yep, he was in the hospital. 

“Thought you were waking up. Dr. Smalls said you’d be out for a few more hours. You okay?” Scott asked from where he was perched on a chair, one hand resting gently on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Yeah. Pack? Derek?” Stiles’ mouth was dry and gross. “Also water?”

“Fine.” Scott reached over and grabbed a cup of water off the side table without letting go of Stiles. “Everyone’s fine. We won, Trow are all dead. Derek’s on his way here, so is your dad. They took you in for surgery and everything. My mom’s already working on the paperwork. Not sure how you plan to fly this one past your dad, everyone expects you to be healing for a while. The doctor was telling me that you’d be in physical therapy for months, but with hard work you’d regain full use of your arm, and that as long as you didn’t get infected, the gashes on your leg should heal up fine.” 

“Ugh.” Stiles sipped at the drink and examined the damage. “I’m gonna need Derek here to heal all this. I’m barely able to fight off the drugs, even with your help.” His right arm was broken, and in some sort of temporary cast. That was going to take a lot of energy to heal, but at least it was already set. He knew from experience that healing bones that were already set was so much easier, but the pain of setting them made it almost worth the extra energy burn. His leg was more worrying though, because something felt off about the gash. “Your mom losing the X-rays? Or am I going to have to wear a cast for a while?”

“She’s working on it. Food is coming, Derek stopped to grab you some. I smell burgers.” Scott smiled as the door to the room opened.

“You really need to learn to stay out of the fight when I tell you to. Also, not losing consciousness would have probably kept you out of the hospital,” Derek admonished as he entered the room.

“Missed you too. We won? Everything settled? Please tell me everyone in the car accident lived,” Stiles grumbled. Derek nodded at him, as he continued his approach to the bed. He set the bag of food on the side table and crawled carefully onto the bed, not jostling Stiles in the slightest. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Stiles’ forehead. At Derek’s simple touch, their bond flared to life between them, heat and light pouring into Stiles, connecting them. Stiles sighed in pleasure.

“I was almost panicked when you practically disappeared from the pack. I could barely feel you. I was even more worried when Scott told me they were loading you up in the ambulance because you’d passed out. They had to give you blood.” Derek gently nosed at Stiles’ neck.

“Sorry. The thing destroyed my pack bonds, everything but the mate bond. We’re going to have to re-establish them. Also, I think something is up with those gashes. Need you to look at it quickly. It feels off. Could be something the doctors did, but I don’t think so. It got me with its claws, and I thought only the teeth were poison. Anyone have Deaton’s cure?” Stiles really wanted to pull Derek down to him and be held right now; he was so tired. Derek was already shifting down Stiles’ body, still careful not to make any movement which might cause pain. “Also, if there are any drugs in the IV drip, can we get them turned off, please, it’s costing me to stay awake right now, and I’d rather not die because I wasn’t awake enough to fight off the potential poison infection in my leg.” 

“I’ll get mom.” Scott was out the door in a blink.

“Scott, we need Deaton’s antidote potion.” Stiles knew Scott would hear him even if he was halfway down the hall.

“I’m going to have to pull up the bandage. It’s going to hurt some, but I’ll take the pain. Do you want me to wait till the drugs are off?” Derek asked as he nosed gently at the wound. “It does smell wrong.”

“Pull up the bandage; the sooner we do this, the sooner I can leave. Maybe I can get out of here before Dad shows up, claim the whole thing was a mix up.” Stiles reached for bed controls, wanting to sit up so he could see the damage with his own eyes.

“We can just tell him the truth,” Derek offered, not for the first time.

“And I’ve told you, he’d put himself in the thick of it. He can’t heal like you guys can, or even like I can. Hell, even with my spark and the benefits of being your mate, I ended up in surgery.” Stiles sometimes felt stupid saying the word magic out loud. It made him sound like a character from Harry Potter, instead of someone with an amazingly weird life. Of course, he had just helped defend his town from a pack of goblin Trows, which have poison teeth, maybe poison claws, and like humans as snacks. Maybe his life was more of an episode of Buffy than it was Harry Potter.

Derek put his hand on Stiles’ leg, magic tickling through him as the pain of his injury disappeared. Derek fingered at the bandage, pulling it up slowly so as not to bother the wound.

“Fuck Stiles. If it had been an inch higher....” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t know if he was trying to neuter me or what. I’m just going to be thankful it wasn’t an inch higher.” Stiles could feel Derek’s warm breath on his balls, thanks to the lack of hospital provided underwear and the proximity of the wound to his junk. His pain was held back by magic and his mate was nosing around between his legs, so Stiles was trying to think unsexy thoughts like Trow claws on his balls, which really was a close thing today. He steeled himself and looked at the wound for the first time. 

“Oh my god, we’re going to have to pull all the stitches out,” Stiles groaned. Derek pulled back from Stiles, tugging the hospital gown back down. When he let go of Stiles, the pain returned in force. Stiles inhaled sharply, and Derek snapped his head up, making eye contact. 

“Sorry. I’m fine. It’ll be better when they turn these meds off!” Stiles groused. Derek slid off of the bed, grabbed the bag of fast food.

“That’s what we’re here for.” Scott opened the door. He was followed in by his mom and Deaton. 

Derek handed Stiles a cheeseburger.

“You shouldn’t be eating Stiles. And are you sure you want the painkillers off?” Mrs. McCall looked genuinely worried. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to call her by her first name, even in his head.

“I’m about to be pulling hard on werewolf magic to get all this healed up.” Stiles gestured with his burger at his injuries. “I need a clear head to do so, and my body needs fuel to heal. Werewolf magic, so protein is more helpful than anything else. I don’t need painkillers, I’ve got an Alpha who can take away my pain, which lets me concentrate on the healing. All the drugs are doing is getting in my way, and making me waste energy to fight them. I shouldn’t even be awake right now with how much they’re pumping into me, right?” Stiles dug into his burger at the point, eating awkwardly one handed. 

“I’ve got more of the herbs you needed. It sounds like the Trow drained you almost dry, but with some rest, you should be back to normal in no time. We’ll want to place it in the wounds, if they have the venom in them. And then add werewolf salvia once they’ve sat for about five minutes. Thankfully I don’t have to collect it for you, catching a werewolf for their spit can be awkward,” Deaton deadpanned as he held out a small vial filled with powdered herbs. 

“I’m going to leave the saline drip on for now. You need it after all the blood loss,” Mrs. McCall stated as she moved with practiced ease around the hospital equipment.

“Whatever. Stitch removal?” Stiles asked around a mouthful of burger. Derek placed a gentle hand on Stiles, helping to pull away the pain. Stiles was thankful for it once Deaton and Mrs. McCall started to work on removing the stitches. He was confident that there was poison in the wound now, based on how inflamed and terrible it felt even with Derek’s help. He allowed himself to concentrate on food and Derek’s nearness until the stitches were out and Deaton was done poking at the injury.

“This middle gash has venom in it for sure. We’ll treat all three gashes. Derek, you should be able to tell when the scent changes, and that’s when you’ll need to do your part. I’ll need to raid the pharmacy here, but I’m also going to mix up something for Stiles to ingest, to ensure we’ve cleared everything completely. This will hurt, a lot. I’ve got to be sure to get this down in the wound. Be prepared.” Deton picked up the vial of herbs again, and Stiles popped the last of his second burger in his mouth. Stiles looked over to Derek, met his blue eyes. Derek nodded and took a hold of Stiles free hand, careful of IV port.

“Pack is safe and clear of danger?” Stiles confirmed again. He wanted to be absolutely sure; Derek was much more connected to everyone in the pack than Stiles, especially at the moment. He didn’t want to pull on the magic and distract anyone from doing something dangerous. At Derek’s nod, Stiles continued, “Alright, then we’re ready.” Stiles held Derek’s gaze and Deaton began applying the healing powder. It burned on contact with the venom in his leg, Stiles could feel it working inside of his veins, pain spreading where the powder entered his bloodstream. Both Derek and Stiles pulled on the pack magic together, spreading the agony of fire in Stiles’ blood among all the pack. Stiles groaned in pain, Derek and Scott both growled. Mrs. McCall looked stricken, but Deaton knew how this worked, and he stayed focused on his task. 

After a few tense minutes of pain-filled haze, Deaton stopped. “It’s done. Let it sit till the scent changes, then use werewolf saliva to neutralize the burning. After that, Stiles can heal the wounds and start work on his arm once he’s rested from healing the gashes. No reason to do a rush job. I’ll bring the meds to ensure we’ve cleared everything once I’m done mixing them.” 

The pain was back to manageable, as long as the pack didn’t mind diffusing it a little bit. Stiles was pretty sure Derek was taking about half of it for himself, spreading what remained among Stiles and the rest. It still burned though, and Stiles was sure it would continue to burn until Derek licked the wound clean.

“Well, that sucked, but it’s almost over.” Stiles tried to smile as the words bubble from his lips, “Bet you wish I’d have taken the bite years ago.”

“No.” Derek’s eyes flash red for a second, “You are amazing. I’d turn you if I had to, if there was no other choice, but this magic thing you do? No idea if you could do it as a wolf. And you’re strong the way you are. We can handle the pain, although I wasn’t happy at all to hear you were at the hospital. Too much attention, too much risk, and the fact that you needed to come here, due to passing out from the pain and blood loss? That does worry me a little. Why didn’t you pull back on the pack bonds? We could have handled it.”

“Couldn’t. Those things sucked my energy, like, out of the air. From thirty feet away I could feel the pull. It made me slow, threw me off. I need to practice more often without the spark. It broke my arm, like it enjoyed the pain, or maybe trying to heal the arm made for sweeter energy. I’m honestly not sure. The Trow that Scott and I were fighting caused a car crash. Scott distracted it, I beheaded it, but the corpse still sucked at me. I couldn’t get enough energy to do anything. In the meantime, ambulance showed up. I remember hearing the siren, trying to stop myself from bleeding out, then waking up here.” Stiles looked at Scott for confirmation.

Scott shrugged, “You passed out. By the time I’d gotten the evidence out of the way, they were loading you up in the ambulance. I couldn’t get you away, not without a major scene, and dude, I think you actually needed the ambulance. The rest of the fighting was dying down, so I texted Derek and jumped in the ambulance with you, force fed you what energy I could.” 

“Thanks man.” Stiles smiled over at his best friend.

“Scott, out.” Derek growled, his eyes flashing a touch red, but they did not leave Stiles. As soon as the door shut behind Scott, Derek continued in a low whisper. “Do not cut yourself off like that. It was not pleasant to have you gone from me like that. I couldn’t feed you any energy until Scott was able to touch you, to open you back up to us. I was--,” Derek paused, his voice rough, his gaze finally dropping, “I thought I might have lost you.” The words were almost inaudible.

“Shit, Der, it’s okay. I’m okay now. I’m sor--” Stiles began, but Derek cut him off.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Derek’s head snapped up, eyes locked once more on Stiles. “You, god Stiles, you just--” Derek leapt gracefully back onto the bed, never once letting go of Stiles. “I need you. I need you healed and whole and writhing under my touch.” Derek’s mouth was on Stiles, demanding, licking into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles returned the kiss reverently, wanting to sooth his mate. Derek broke the kiss only to bury his mouth in Stiles’s neck, scenting and sucking at him.

“I’m fine. We’re fine. Let’s just get me healed up and home, so we can writhe around together. The hospital is a total mood killer.” Despite his words, Stiles arched up into Derek, able to move freely and without pain due to his Alpha’s power.

“Scent’s changed.” Derek began working his way down Stiles body, careful to maintain physical contact for the sake of the magic between them. He moved between Stiles’ legs in a comfortable, familiar way, before scooting just a touch lower than normal. His eyes were reflective red, and his face slipped into the start of a change, before his head dipped down, tongue nudging at the wound. It should have been painful, to have something prodding at his wound, slipping inside it, but Derek’s power held back the agony.

Derek’s touch, the pull of the magic through them, was always tinged with sex. Their bond, the ties that Stiles had to the pack magic, came through the mate bond he and Derek shared. The mate bond was metaphysical, yes, but it was based in the physical, in the draw they felt to one another, in the way they touched. When they pulled hard, together in form and function on the magic, it was blissful and occasionally orgasmic. Here, in the hospital, when they pulled together on the energy, all physical discomfort vanished, and Stiles was euphoric. He heard himself and Derek groan in unison at the sensations pulling between them, through them. Stiles rode the wave of pleasure, focused on concentrating the energy moving through him into healing the gashes. The wound was terrifyingly close to Stiles’ groin, but the pull of magic that close, the feel of Derek’s tongue on his skin, his breath hot on Stiles’s cock, was almost too much right there. Stiles wanted to grab Derek and fuck him into the mattress, broken arm be damned. The gashes closed, and Stiles was precariously close to a blinding orgasm, when he heard his father’s voice.

“Get the hell off my son!” Both Stiles and Derek snapped the magic, heads coming up in unison to see Sheriff Stilinski standing in the room, gun drawn. 

“Oh My God! Dad! Put the gun down!” Stiles wanted to leap from the bed, but Derek’s weight on his legs kept him pinned. He slid his glance towards Derek, knowing that he was wolfed out and in throws of the magic not two seconds ago, but Derek had already slipped back to completely human. 

“Dad? Come on. Please? No shooting in the hospital. Please?” Stiles reminded himself that his father didn’t carry wolfsbane, Derek would be okay no matter what happened next. 

“What the hell is going on? I swear, a second ago, he looked......” The sheriff shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Hale? Why are you on top of my son?” 

“Uh, Dad? He’s sort of my boyfriend?”


	5. Chapter 5

“He’s my boyfriend?” Stiles repeated. But of course, just as the words left his mouth, Scott banged the door open.

“Sorry! Whoa! What’s with the gun?” Scott babbled, as Stiles’ dad spun around and leveled the gun at Scott. Mrs. McCall and Deaton stumbled to a stop directly behind Scott, standing in the hallway.

“Scott?” His dad’s voice was confused. Everyone paused for a moment and then slowly, thankfully, his dad lowered the gun. Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Derek moved, pulling the hospital gown back down over Stiles’ newly healed gashes. Then Derek, under the watchful eye of the Sheriff, slowly climbed down off of the bed, keeping one hand on Stiles’ leg. The magic was buzzing through them, but they had lost most of it in the shock of being interrupted.

“Sir, can you put the gun away, please?” Derek asked, his voice smooth, human, with no hint of stress. 

“After you step away from my son.” The gun was pointed at the ground, but his father still had it at the ready. Stiles and Derek looked to one another, and Stiles gave Derek an encouraging nod, willing Derek to follow his Dad’s direction. Derek frowned his disapproval, his fingers curled around Stiles’ leg in comforting gesture, one last flare of magic licking up his leg, before Derek slowly backed away. As soon as the last feather touch left Stiles leg, the hurt and exhaustion rushed in. Stiles couldn’t quite suppress a groan, but he forced himself to ignore the pain and glanced around the room. 

Derek moved to the far side of the room, his familiar frown etched on his face. Deaton had a new vial in his hand, but was glancing between Stiles and the sheriff, his nerves at being involved evident. Melissa was looking from Stiles to the meds sitting unused in the IV machine; she’d obviously picked up that Stiles was in pain, and she wanted to help him by using the drugs again. Scott was bouncing on his feet a little, head down, a slight blush, probably caused from the guilt of failing to guard the door properly. Stiles’ dad just looked very confused. 

Before launching into an explanation, Stiles went to sit up a little bit, but the movement jared everything, causing another grunt of pain. Derek and Scott both started forward on instinct, knowing that a simple touch from a pack member would help. Dad pulled his weapon back up, trained it on Derek. 

“Put the gun down.” Stiles’ voice was iron, fueled by alpha pack magic. Both his father and Mrs. McCall gasped, and Stiles realized he must have pulled too hard, caused his eyes to shine with wolf magic. “Derek, stay there. Scott, bring me the meds I need. Dad, sit down. Deaton, either come in and close the door, or leave and close the door. Mrs. McCall, please take this IV out now and let me know if we can leave yet.” 

His dad finally slid the gun into the holster, then slumped into the chair nearest Stiles. “I think you better explain what is going on. You’re hurt, Derek Hale is in your hospital room, and there was something wrong with his face a second ago.” His dad gestured at Stiles, “And then with your eyes.”

Derek started forward again, but Stiles glared him back into place. Derek raised his eyebrow, frustrated, and Stiles knew he must reek of pain right now. Derek looked pointedly at Scott, then sighed and said, “Scott, bring him the medicine and support.” 

Scott took the vial from Deaton, and as soon as Scott’s fingers touched Stiles, the pack magic pushed back through Stiles, pain dissipating. Scott was nowhere near as good at this as Derek, but with Stiles’ active help, the pain was pushed down and back. Stiles held onto his hand while he caught his breath and everyone else looked on, tense. 

“I’ve only got the one hand that works, move down, hold onto my leg.” Stiles kept his voice as low as possible, knowing Scott would hear him. Then Stiles looked over at Deaton, “Any special instructions? Or just down the hatch?” Scott moved down Stiles’ body, careful to maintain contact, which seemed to freak out Dad a little bit more. 

“Do you think you cleared everything?” Deaton asked, and at Stiles’ nod, he added, “Then just down the hatch, to be safe. If pain flairs, you’ll want to concentrate on that area.” Stiles tipped the vial back, swallowing the bitter concoction with only a small grimace. He set the vial down and gestured at Mrs. McCall with his IV, and she finally stepped forward.

“I still think you should leave this in.” She grumbled.

“What the hell Stiles! If Melissa thinks you need the IV, then you need the IV. She’s a nurse! And why do you think you’re leaving? The doctor told me that you’d still be asleep, that you’d be here for at least 24 hours, probably a lot longer. You need to rest and heal, son.” His Dad was not taking this well.

“What’s our window to get out of here? Do I have time to explain it all? Or is it better if we leave now?” Stiles asked as Mrs. McCall pulled the IV out.

“Stay for another five, ten minutes or so, and by then the doctor who was in charge of you will have left. Once he’s gone, I’ll be able to get you out without attracting too much attention during shift change.” She frowned as she spoke.

“I don’t need the IV, or the drugs. My leg’s already healed, the arm’s just going to take a lot of energy and concentration, I’d rather do it someplace less public, more safe.” Stiles didn’t add that he wanted to be alone with Derek when it was done. Parental figures don’t need that much detail. As soon as Mrs. McCall was done doing her nurse thing, Stiles’ dad spoke up. 

“I think I need to talk to my son. Alone,” his father stated to the room at large. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Derek’s voice was soft, but Stiles could feel the authority in it.

“I don’t really care what you think! I was four hours away on business when I got the call that Stiles had been in an accident. I rush here in a panic, get told that Stiles will be okay, but that we’ve got a long road ahead of us with his arm. Then I walked in here and you are molesting my son, looking like something off of a movie set. And now I find out there is some sort of plot, which my son is helping with, to get him smuggled out of the hospital against medical advice! So, everyone clear out and my son will tell me what the hell is going on.” The Sheriff was practically ranting, and no one was moving. Derek gave Stiles the eyebrow again, and Stiles knew Derek was putting Stiles in charge of this. Stiles let out a big sigh.

“Deaton, am I good?” Stiles questioned.

“If you’re not feeling anything now, you’re clear of the venom. The medicine you drank should have been very fast acting,” Deaton said quietly.

“Okay, Mrs. McCall, I’ll see you in ten for check out. Deaton, thank you for your help, we’ll talk tomorrow. Derek, more food is a goodness, can you hunt something up for me?” Stiles held Derek’s gaze. Derek frowned in return, so Stiles tried again, “Look, I need protein, just go in the hall and get some beef jerky or something. Scott can stay.” Derek huffed, glared once at Scott, then tapped his ear on his way out, all of which was Derek’s way of telling Scott that he’d better hold back Stiles’ pain, and that he would be listening if he was needed. Derek ushered the other two adults out and closed the door behind him. 

“Why is Scott staying?” His father glared at Scott.

“Because if he lets go of my leg, I’ll probably pass out from the pain, given the way the day is going.” Stiles didn’t mean to be that brutally honest, but he was grumpy, and his mouth tended to go before his brain sometimes.

“Pain? Pass out? Shouldn’t we call the nurse back in then?” Dad’s voice was infused with confusion.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not in any danger at this point, just exhausted. I promise, it’s nowhere near as bad as the doctors tell you. I’ll be fine by the time you see me tomorrow. I didn’t mean to end up in the hospital.” Stiles took a deep breath then continued, “Short version. Werewolves are real.”

“Stiles. This really isn’t the time for jokes. Did you hit your head? Are you concussed?” His father was frowning.

“I did hit my head, I am not concussed. God, I should have healed my head before the gashes. Stupid. I always focus on the big injuries and miss the little ones. Anyway, Dad, if you promise not to go for your gun, Scott can prove werewolves to you.”

“Okay. Sure.” His father was obviously humoring him, despite having seen Derek wolfed out a few minutes ago.

“Promise. Here, both your hands, in mine.” Stiles stretched out his hand to his father. His father sighed, and then grasped Stiles hand with both of his. Stiles then nodded at Scott, who made the most adorable puppy dog face, and promptly wolfed out.

“Oh Fuck!” His father tugged, trying to free his hands, but Stiles pulled on the pack magic and held strong. 

“Settle down. It’s fine. Scott is still Scott. He got turned a couple of years ago, and since then, there has been a lot of weird stuff and magic and werewolves and crap you are better off not knowing about. You okay if Scott goes back to looking like a normal person? Cause his mom is going to be really mad if you shoot him.” Stiles watched until his father finally nodded. A glance at Scott from Stiles, and the wolf faded.

“Are you a...?” His father gestured at Scott. 

“Nope. Not planning on becoming one either, so no worries there.” Stiles smiled, not sure how to broach the whole, magic-wielding, second-in-command-of-a-pack, alpha’s-mate thing that he was. He thought his dad was handling things very well, but as he watched, a new look of horror crossed his dad’s face.

“Wait. Did you say Derek Hale was your boyfriend?”

Derek, of course, chose that moment to re-enter the room, and said, “Melissa says it’s time to go. Let’s get you dressed.”

“Thank god.” Stiles managed to sit up mostly on his own, but the cast made him awkward. “Shit. I think we’re going to have to remove this stupid thing before I can get dressed.” Stiles gestured at his cast.

“Are we settled? Or is your father going to freak out on us? We’ve only got a small window if we want to get away clean,” Derek asked as he stepped up to Stiles, holding out sweat pants.

“I’m not going to shoot anyone, maybe you boys should leave? I can help Stiles get dressed.” His father was pale, rising uncomfortably from his seat.

“We’ve got this,” Derek said. Scott helped Stiles find his feet, and Derek bent down, helping Stiles step into the sweats. Derek moved around Stiles’ body, helped him dress with practiced ease that spoke to the depth of their relationship. Derek’s hands caressed as pants were slid over Stiles hips, then Derek paused and asked, “Want me to take care of the cast?” He held up one human hand. Stiles looked to his father before nodding, knowing this was the fastest way. 

“Scott, brace him from behind, and this will jar his arm, so be prepared to spread the pain around.” And before Stiles could object, Derek’s hand was sprouting claws and cutting through the cast. Stiles was aware of the pain, but it was easily handled with the help of Scott. Derek was actually being fairly gentle, all things considered. 

As soon as the cast was off, the two werewolves eased the hospital gown off of Stiles, and his father gasped. “Stiles? Is that a tattoo? Where did you get all those scars? When did all of this happen? How?”

“Shit. I forgot,” Stiles muttered as he reached for one of his long sleeve button down shirts. Stiles knew his body was a network of scars, because, while he could heal all the damage, he did not possess the perfect healing of a werewolf. There were only a few glyphs tattooed on his skin, although Stiles had plans for more. Getting the shirt on over his broken arm was less than fun, but they managed to get him dressed. Derek kept one hand on Stiles at all times, and the power between them was the only thing keeping Stiles upright. Then Derek was buttoning up Stiles’ shirt for him, fingers moving with practiced ease. A wave of nausea and tiredness washed over Stiles, and he leaned into Derek until his head was up against his.

“Take me home Der,” he pleaded against his mate’s cheek.

“I’m not sure we should be taking him out of the hospital at all,” Stiles father objected.

“Please dad, trust me.” Stiles didn’t look at his father, but he did raise his good arm in a half of a shrug before he continued. “Werewolves are real. I mean, hinky jinky stuff going on all around. I swear everything will be fine in the morning, and I’ll answer all your questions. Please.”

“Okay. Fine. You’ve got an eight hour window here, then I demand answers. I’ll drive you home,” his dad responded tersely.

“No,” Derek said as he finished getting Stiles into his shirt.

“He just asked to go home!” Stiles’ father objected.

“No, he asked me to take him home. We’re going to the pack house. He’ll need me there to heal. Your questions can wait,” Derek said succinctly. Stiles managed to glare at Derek, and Derek added a reluctant, “Please, Mr. Stilinski.” 

Stiles was concentrating on the magic, on not passing out, everything around him faded into the background. Stiles could hear the soft hum of conversation between his father and Derek, but making out actual words required too much concentration right now. He knew Derek would keep him safe. When they got to the parking lot, he was vaguely aware of his father kicking up a fuss, but soon Stiles was sliding into the back of Derek’s familiar car, relaxing into Derek as he let himself be wolfhandled into a comfortable position against his mate’s warm body. Scott slid into the passenger seat, and Isaac navigated them out of the parking lot.

“Hey Isaac. Thanks for the pickup,” Stiles mumbled. 

“You should go under. We’ll drive slow and careful and guard,” Isaac replied with a soft smile.

“As long as you can guard better than Scott. He let my dad just waltz in during a healing.” Stiles’ voice was barely a whisper, but werewolf hearing was excellent.

“I was helping my mom with the x-rays! I only stepped away from the door for a minute!” Scott objected, then added a contrite, “Sorry.”

Stiles shifted, speaking into Derek’s chest. “Shouldn’t we be wearing seatbelts since my dad is following us home?”

A chuckle escaped Derek, and Stiles enjoyed the feel of his mates’ rumble under his cheek, even if the movement jarred his arm a little. “Go under. We’re safe.”

“I think the Trow fracked with my pack bonds. I can feel you, but all the work I did to connect myself on my own to the pack feel broken. I can barely get at the pack energy by myself, it’s just too much effort.”

“You’re still connected to me. Nothing could break that bond. Use me to get to what you need.” Derek pulled him closer, and opened the bonds between them. Stiles felt bathed in light and love, energy suffusing him. The well of energy from the werewolf pack was fresh, replenished from battle, and overflowing. Stiles relaxed into his mate, let the energy fill him, and slept.


	6. Chapter 6

“Are you carrying me? Because I can totally walk. I’m feeling, like, one thousand percent better at this point. I just need to heal my lame arm and be alone with you,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s chest as his mate lifted him out of the car.

“Your dad is pulling into the driveway, and you better hope human hearing is as bad as I think it is or he’s going to shoot me,” Derek replied, but there was no stress in his voice. He ignored Stiles’ protest and carried him to the house. Isaac held open the door for them.

“So, do you want to talk to your dad now? Or should we wait until morning?” Derek continued. Stiles’ stomach rumbled in response. He really had burned way too much energy tonight.

“Better talk now for a few minutes and have yet another snack. That nap? The best. Feeling amazing,” Stiles said truthfully. He’d refilled and refueled in Derek’s arms; seriously, fifteen minutes connected to his mate, and the only thing wrong with him anymore was his mangled arm and a bottomless stomach.

Derek sat them on the couch, keeping Stiles up against his body. Isaac moved to the kitchen. Scott sat down next to Stiles and cuddled in close. Boyd and Erica appeared from somewhere else in the house and both crowded up on the couch as well. Erica draped herself over the back of the couch and Boyd settled in on Stiles’ and Derek’s other side. Isaac returned from the kitchen with a sports drink and a couple of power bars, which he handed to Stiles. Isaac plopped down in between Derek’s feet, his hand snaking up around Stiles’ leg, and he briefly nuzzled at Stiles. All the wolves in the packhouse were feeding into Stiles, sending warmth and energy into him. He felt his bonds to them reestablishing, gaining strength, clicking into place and making Stiles feel whole. He reflexively reached for the few pack members not home, but found the only way to sense them was still through Derek. He knew everyone was well though.

Stiles’ father finally pushed the front door open and entered the room. He stopped dead in the doorway when he saw the puppy pile on the couch. Stiles debated jumping to his feet and trying to maintain something that looked normal to his dad, but the night had already been so rough, and Stiles’ pack needed the touching as much as Stiles, if not more. 

“Hey, Dad. Um, this is my pack. Well, most of it. You already know everyone. I’m gonna eat, and then head to bed, and you are so welcome to like, sleep on a spare bed or just come back tomorrow. I swear, tomorrow I’ll be up and around and you won’t even know I was hurt!” Stiles gestured wildly with his power bar as he spoke, and then took a bite as soon as he was done talking, so he’d have an excuse to stop talking.

“Where did you get all those scars that I saw at the hospital?” Of course that would be his father’s first question.

“Bad luck? Klutziness? Various incidents involving protecting people?” Stiles replied around a mouthful of food. He leaned back into Derek, seeking comfort.

“We’ve had a rough few years, here in Beacon Hills. After the fire, the territory here was unclaimed for a little while. The pack has been establishing itself, and we’ve had territory disputes with other supernatural creatures. Things are improving. Prior to the fight tonight, we’d been about three months without any issues. As our reputation spreads, the danger will lessen. My family rarely had to deal with any issues like we’ve seen, and mostly lived a very peaceful life. The very presence of the Hale Pack kept other things away.” Derek explained calmly, all the while running a soothing hand along Stiles.

“I’m going to want more details than that... Why is everyone touching Stiles?” His dad’s voice sounded frustrated. His scowl deepened when everyone answered at once.

“We’re helping--”

“We were worried--”

“Werewolves are tactile--”

“We’re giving him energy--”

“Helping him heal faster--”

“Making sure he’s okay--”

“One at a time? Derek, are you in charge?” The Sheriff's glare focused on Derek. 

Derek nodded his head and repeated himself, “We’re giving him energy, which he is using to heal at a much faster than normal rate. I am the Alpha of this pack, so yes, I’m in charge.”

“Also, werewolves are tactile. And so am I! So it’s nice. Comforting,” Stiles added as he reached for the sports drink bottle. Isaac grabbed it up and opened it for Stiles before passing it over.

“This is insane. You are all werewolves? Is this everyone?” Stiles’ dad rubbed at his face.

“Everyone here is a werewolf except for you and Stiles,” Derek replied. “We’ve got a few other members, two of which are also wolves, who are not here right now. We can introduce you tomorrow, if you stay over. We need to get Stiles upstairs and his arm healed, as soon as he’s done eating. Do you have any other pressing questions that can’t wait till morning?”

“Can you do this healing thing with anyone?” the Sheriff asked.

“No, we can take pain away from some people, but not everyone. Also, some animals. Dogs are easy, cats are a bit trickier. I helped with a bunny once, that was really hard. Oh, and other werewolves,” Isaac said from the ground.

“Isaac’s the best at it,” Stiles said fondly, bumping his knee lightly against Isaac. “Derek is better for me because of our...um, ah, bond? But Isaac is the best overall, he’s got a real gift for it.”

“How long have you been dating my son?” Stiles hadn’t thought his father could look any more threatening, but somehow, his expression got scarier.

“Dad!” Stiles objected.

“About a year now,” Derek responded calmly, “I’m sorry we’ve kept it from you, but we had reasons, many of which revolved around the fact that I’m a werewolf, and Stiles was worried about how that would affect you.”

“And some of which would have to do with the fact that you are a grown man who was dating my underaged son?” 

“DAD.” Stiles voice was hard, his eyes lighting once more with his mate’s power. “I’m an adult now. And Derek and I are in this for the long haul. So I’d appreciate it if you’d make an effort to be nice to him.”

“What the hell is up with your eyes?” his father replied, mouth agape.

“Shit. I made them glow again? I have got to stop doing that,” Stiles mumbled. “Look, Dad, I’m really out of it right now. The short answer is that I figured out, just a couple of months ago, how to pull Derek’s Alpha command voice thing though our bond. And I keep accidently using it when I get bossy, especially when I’m out of it. The eye glowing thing is a weird side effect. My eyes shine a little like a wolf’s. I’m not a wolf though.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned a bond with Derek.” His father frowned again.

“And it’s time I took Stiles to bed. You’re welcome to stay here. Isaac or Scott can show you to one of the guest rooms.” Derek stood as he spoke, cradling Stiles to his chest. 

“Night, Dad! See you in the morning! Seriously Der, I can walk. I’m not a princess,” Stiles complained, but he nuzzled in closer.

“Where are you taking him?” his father called after them.

“To their bedroom,” Scott answered, rising and moving between Stiles’ father and his departing Alpha. “Why don’t you follow me to the downstairs guest room.” 

Stiles knew his dad was probably displeased to learn that he and Derek had a bedroom here that they shared, but he really was sick of having a broken arm. Every time he moved it, or it got jostled, the pain became intense. He turned his focus inward, sending pulses of energy into his arm, feeling where the bones were broken, where the skin was torn and stitched.

Derek sat him gently on the bed, then paused to ask, “Do you need me to keep touching you? Or can you pull enough through our bond to stave off the pain and passing out while I get what we need to get you fixed up?”

“I’m good,” Stiles replied as he pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard. “As long as I stay still it’s pretty manageable.” Stiles then raised his voice a bit, calling, “Hey, My Pack! If I’m not awake when you guys hear my dad wake up, please fix that. And if someone gets a chance to hit a store before breakfast, we need Egg Beaters, fat free milk, and turkey sausage or bacon.”

“You need to stop worrying about your dad. We’ll take care of him.” Derek stripped down to his boxers and moved to the bathroom, gathering everything they would need. Eventually he returned to Stiles with a pair of wicked looking shears. He set them on the bedside table next to the first aid kit and bowl of warm water.

“I’m going to cut off your shirt, I think it will make everything easier. Let’s get your pants off first.” Derek’s voice was calm and Stiles relaxed further, letting Derek take care of him, maneuver him out of his clothes. Derek took pain when needed, and worked efficiently but gently, until Stiles lay naked on the bed.

“I think we should have Isaac come in and take out the stitches. He’s better at it than I am, and that way I can concentrate on helping you to heal yourself.” Derek stood and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. Stiles smiled slyly at the view.

“Anything to get you naked and in bed with me faster.” Stiles felt the energy building between them waiting to be put to use. Derek tilted his head, then pulled his boxers off and crawled into bed. He draped himself alongside Stiles, ensuring as much skin on skin contact as was comfortable for both of them. Isaac knocked once, for Stiles’ sake, and then opened the door. He ghosted across the room, before sitting down comfortably on the opposite side of the bed from Derek, and picked up some of his tools.

“I’ll take the stitches out and slip back out of the room. Just ignore me, I’ll be gone in a few minutes. Shouldn’t even hurt, with Derek here.” Isaac smiled reassuringly and got to work.

The first few tugs of the stitches were noticeable, but Derek began nuzzling along Stiles’ neck, encouraging Stiles to turn his head. Stiles closed his eyes and let his head roll to one side. Derek placed a gentle kiss on the small goose egg at the back of Stiles’ neck, sending his energy into Stiles. Stiles relaxed into the energy, shaped it, and used it to heal the bruised and damaged tissue, to seal the small cut on his head. Stiles smiled as Derek’s kisses really did work to kiss away his pain, to heal him; with each bruise and cut, the connection, heat between them, building slowly. 

The door to the bedroom shut, the sound barely registered to Stiles, as his whole world had become Derek and the energy between them. “Let’s take care of that arm,” Derek said breathlessly, pupils blown. 

Stiles lost himself in the power. He could feel how painfully hard he was, but his erection was ancillary at the moment. He was lining up all the spots in his arm that needed repair, finding the weakness and working on them. Stiles was vaguely aware that Derek was moving around him, touching him, stroking, feeding him power. He could feel Derek placing a hand under his neck, tracing the contours of his body, ghosting across all of his exposed skin. Derek’s palms were soft but occasionally his nails would graze along the skin, a sharp contrast to his otherwise gentle touch. The energy reached a crescendo between them, mixing with the pain and pleasure pouring down and through Stiles. His arm flared with agony, and then the pleasure overtook his body, bringing him right to the edge. Stiles was suddenly aware of Derek’s hand tightening around the base of Stiles’ rock hard cock, preventing him from toppling over the edge into orgasm.

Stiles reached up, his entire body healed and whole now, to bring Derek’s lips crashing down to his. The kiss was urgent, teeth clashing as they opened into each other.

“I need you. Need to feel you fuck me,” Derek moaned into Stiles’ mouth around their kisses. “Please Stiles, I don’t want to think about anything but you.”

Stiles swung his leg up around Derek and crowded their bodies together, enjoying the feel of skin on skin, the slight graze of Derek’s cock against his own. Derek followed Stiles’ motion, and Stiles rolled them, arching up to admire the view of Derek’s naked body beneath him.

“You. Derek. God,” Stiles breathed, unable to form a coherent sentence. His fingers skimmed patterns against his lover’s defined abs, enjoying the way Derek stretched up into his touch. Stiles ran his hands up to Derek’s face, and tipped his head to the side before leaning in to nuzzle at his neck. Stiles very carefully nipped at Derek’s exposed throat, reveling in the shiver that he felt course down Derek’s body. Finally, he stretched up to the nightstand, reaching for the lube with his freshly healed arm.

Stiles traced a path with tiny nips and gentle kisses back down his lover, stopping for a moment to tease Derek’s nipples to attention, pulling at them gently with his teeth, enjoying the way they pebbled under his breath. He placed a reverent bite on each of Derek’s hip bones, then slipped down between his legs. Stiles nestled his nose at the spot where his groin met his leg, inhaling the musky scent of petrichor and cinnamon that defined his mate. He placed his tongue at the base of Derek’s erection, before slowly licking his way to the head, and tongue swirling. He took all of Derek into his mouth, his nose brushing up against his mate’s dark nest. Derek groaned in response, arching his back.

“Stiles,” Derek moaned, his hand slipping into Stiles’ hair to pull, “please?” Stiles responded to his mate’s begging by pulling off of Derek and snapped open the lid on the lube. 

“Der, whatever you want. Tell me if it’s too much.” Stiles warmed the lube between his fingers before pushing one gently inside Derek, and watched as his lover writhed at the intrusion.

“More, Stiles,” escaped from Derek’s lips as he pushed back on Stiles’ finger. Stiles obliged, adding another finger as he bent his head back to his lover’s cock, hot breath ghosting along the flesh. Derek’s hand returned to Stiles’ hair, pulling him down, allowing Derek to fuck up into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles wrapped one hand around the base of Derek’s cock, taking back control, while he slid a third finger into his mate. He matched the rhythm of his hand fucking into Derek with the rhythm that Derek was fucking into his mouth, moaning around Derek’s hardness. 

“Now. I want to come together, now, please.” Derek’s voice was wrecked, harsh and demanding between his moans. 

Stiles pushed back against Derek’s hand and Derek relaxed his grip, sliding his hand down Stiles’ chest as Stiles rose up. Stiles pulled his fingers out of his lover’s warm entrance, and grabbed at the lube. He slicked up his own cock before draping himself over Derek, nuzzling at Derek’s neck again as he lined up and pressed his aching shaft into his lover. 

Derek moaned, threading his fingers in Stiles hair and pulling to allow him access to Stiles’ neck. His breath sent shivers down Stiles as Stiles thrust the rest of the way in, bottoming out inside Derek. Derek bit down on Stiles’ shoulder, his teeth sending little pinpricks of pleasure-pain shooting through Stiles. Soft mewling sounds and huffed growls began to emanate from Derek as Stiles began thrusting in and out of his lover, driving Stiles towards his climax.

“So close,” Stiles breathed, moving one hand between himself and Derek, wrapping it around Derek’s cock, giving him something to fuck into as they raced together toward orgasm. Stiles threw the bond between them up, allowing the power to create a feedback loop of intense pleasure. He could feel his own pleasure as he thrust in, feel Derek’s pleasure spike as the head of his cock brushed the perfect spot inside Derek that had Derek seeing stars. Stiles knew Derek was near the edge, could feel himself about to tumble over with him. He bit down on Derek’s neck, felt hot semen splash between them as Derek groaned, his whole body tightened down on Stiles. Stiles arched one final time, Derek’s release sending Stiles into a matching state of ecstasy. 

“Oh my god, Der, I love you,” Stiles breathed into his lover’s neck as soon as he recovered the ability to speak. 

“Stiles.” Derek said his name like sigh, and returned the nuzzle. He placed gentle kisses along Stiles’ neck. “You need to rest now. I’ll get us cleaned up in a minute.”

Tomorrow there would be magic to do and his dad to deal with, but for tonight, he was healed, held close in his mate’s arms, his pack was safe, and all was right in his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Spencer and [ArcticMel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticMel/pseuds/ArcticMel) for edits! 
> 
> Would you read more in this universe? 
> 
> Feel free to bug me at my [tumblr](http://jadesymb.tumblr.com/)


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